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. ’ ‘We had other matters on hand this morning,’ Roding told him sharply. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. The comments on the makeover lessened but were replaced by long admiring glances by boys who had never before given her the time of day. Her father was holding her waist, smiling. “He looks as though he did, at any rate. ’ Gosse blinked. F.
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